Paul Ilechko
The Duration of His Return
When he returned from traveling
he appeared quite suddenly
in the town of porches
a town of antiques and delicacies
that perched on a sliver of land
between the river and the hills
he wandered through the town carrying
his sadness in his jacket pocket
a small hard lump
dry as concrete dust on a hot summer’s day
he walked past the gardens of roses and lilies
never looking anyone directly in the eye
never stopping to pet any
of the town’s many dogs
he had somehow managed to acquire
a small plot of land on higher ground
and built himself a dwelling from
recycled lumber and rusted beams
the glass of his windows already cracked
there was snow on the ground
by the time he was finished
and he knew his time here was limited
he sat on the wide boards
of his deck in an ancient recliner
reciting the dialog from a movie
that would never be made
a film that in some other life
could have made him rich
he made sculptures from empty bottles
and whatever other scrap he found
anything the townsfolk bagged
and dumped was grist for his recycling artistry
he had lost all of his fear
somewhere on his travels
but with it he had also lost his senses
of smell and taste
and the ability to seize joy
from the passing whisper of a delicate breeze
once the township’s bean counters cut off his power
he knew it was time to move on
trading in this life and this identity
for an old jeep and a view of the night sky
he vanished again
this time forever.
The Endless Sea
Is it possible you asked me for the universe
to be infinite but for time to be bounded
and what would that mean for the end of this universe
and I laughed and continued to water the flowers
and said that you should never ask an artist a question
that belongs to science or the answer that you get
might float across your consciousness on a quiet breeze
before swirling across the sand on the beach and lifting
the hem of a young girl’s dress that girl being you
in a previous or parallel incarnation later that night
it rained and the birds huddled silent in their nests
and we put on our waterproof coats and walked
towards the river one more time to see if the level was rising
the flowers in the gardens were hiding their heads
and time seemed to briefly stand still as we passed
but the river kept churning and the sea the violent
endless sea was no larger or smaller than it had ever been.
Paul Ilechko is a British American poet and occasional songwriter who lives with his partner in Lambertville, NJ. His work has appeared in many journals, including The Bennington Review, The Night Heron Barks, Southword, Permafrost, and Pirene’s Fountain. His first book is scheduled for 2025 publication by Gnashing Teeth Publishing.
